by Ari McKay
The only shadow on his anticipation was, of course, Carlos. When they’d spoken after the first rehearsal, Jules hadn’t expected Carlos to be so insistent that he still wanted to be with Jules. He was surprised by that as well as Carlos’s apparent sincerity, and he tried to tell himself it was simply Carlos trying to get under his skin as he had from the first time they’d met. It would have been easy to discount anything Carlos had to say when he was trying to be charming, but instead he’d been serious and subdued, and Jules reevaluated his own actions and feelings, letting him honestly say he did forgive Carlos. Jules needed to forgive him, so his new life in Mercy wouldn’t be tainted by a past that could not be changed.
But forgiving Carlos didn’t mean he trusted Carlos. Jules didn’t know if it was even possible for him to trust Carlos again. They’d had a second rehearsal, also attended by Miss McManus, and Carlos had used the opportunity to give Jules the same slow, heated smiles that had lured Jules into his bed years before, and to touch Jules casually as he’d looked over Jules’s shoulder on the pretense of reading one of the poems. It had flustered Jules, as he was certain Carlos had intended, but it had also reminded him of how long it had been since he’d had a lover. He’d thought himself past being ruled by physical desires, but just being near Carlos, feeling the warmth of his body or the casual brush of his hand had awakened long-dormant needs Jules was having difficulty ignoring.
They’d also run into one another in town twice since then, and Carlos had made a point of coming up to Jules to chat about Al and how well he was doing at the ranch. Of course Jules could see through Carlos’s ploy; there was no need for Carlos to tell him about Al, and there especially wasn’t any need for him to say Jules’s name in his deep, smooth accent, softening the J and turning the word into an endearment as he’d used to do. There was certainly no need for him to walk close to Jules, his arm brushing against Jules’s as he pretended to make room for the other people on the porch of the mercantile.
Yet Carlos had been truthful in saying he wouldn’t expose Jules to gossip. To any watching eyes their encounters were perfectly innocent, and Carlos didn’t touch him any more than could be accounted for by chance or their previous acquaintance. By now, it seemed that everyone knew Jules had once been Carlos’s teacher, and that Jules was as almost as fluent in Spanish as he was English. Nor could Jules risk causing gossip himself by acting less than friendly to Carlos, so he’d had to smile and linger to chat instead of simply turning on his heel and walking away.
But a weak part of him actually liked Carlos’s attention. No one since Carlos had physically appealed to Jules anyway, and he’d resigned himself to a life without someone to share it. He’d thought himself content with the idea of staying close to Al and being there for his stepson when he married and had children. But now his dreams were once again filled with Carlos, and with a yearning to have someone to hold him and banish the specter of long years spent alone.
But, he had to remind himself often, Carlos was not to be trusted. No matter how appealing it was to imagine himself in Carlos’s arms again, Jules knew he had to resist because he would only end up being hurt when Carlos tired of him again.
Banishing thoughts of his former lover, Jules turned his attention to making certain he was prepared for the evening. Since he would be in front of an audience, he took some care with his appearance, donning his best suit and a new shirt. After retrieving the two pies he’d baked as his contribution for the potluck supper, he left the house and headed toward Main Street, which had been decorated with jack-o’-lanterns, bales of hay, and scarecrows. Tables lined each side of the street, and Jules dropped off his pies with the mother of one of his students, who was in charge of desserts. The festivities were well underway, and Jules strolled down the street, greeting the people he knew, stopping to exchange pleasantries, and enjoying the relaxed, social atmosphere.
Mercy was a welcoming town, and Jules grew more attached to it every day. He’d been invited to dinner in the homes of many of the townsfolk, and they’d been interested in him, rather than holding him, as a newcomer, at arm’s length. Jeanie and Robert Carruthers, especially, had sought him out, including him in supper parties and Mercy’s literary discussion group. At first Jules had worried that it was an effort at matchmaking, but thankfully there didn’t seem to be very many unattached women his age in town. No doubt the presence of all the hands at the surrounding ranches meant a lot of competition for any eligible woman, no matter her age or social status.
At last it was time for supper, so he returned to the tables. Suddenly someone grasped his arm, and he turned to find Jeanie Carruthers by his side.
“We have your stepson, so you must join us,” she said, smiling playfully at him. She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “I was hoping to get Tabitha McManus too. She and Al are about the same age, and I think they’d look adorable together.”
“Indeed they would,” he agreed, delighted with her suggestion. When it came to matchmaking for Al, Jules was entirely in favor of the enterprise.
“We’re at a table in front of my house. I’ll go find Tabitha, and you can join us?”
“I’ll do that.”
Jules watched her hurry off, not slowed down at all by her pregnancy. He liked both Jeanie and her husband, and to his surprise, he found himself comfortable in the presence of her brother, Matt Grayson, and Gil Porter, despite the two of them being Carlos’s friends. The two men had been present at dinner with Jeanie and her husband on a few occasions, and Jules had run into both men in town from time to time, and they’d always stopped to talk. He had the feeling there was more to their relationship than met the eye, especially after their reaction when they’d learned he’d once been Carlos’s teacher, but if so, they were circumspect about it. Despite his early misgivings, neither of them had brought up Carlos in more than a casual way, and once he relaxed, he found Gil Porter shared many of the cultural and educational touchstones of Jules’s youth back East.
He took a plate from one end of the buffet line and loaded it with fried chicken, spoon bread, baked beans, and corn on the cob. When he made his way to Jeanie’s house, he was unsurprised to see Matt, Gil, and Al already seated at the outdoor table with heaping plates of food before them. Robert Carruthers came out of the house with a pitcher of water and called out to him.
“Jeanie must have found you, then,” he said. “Come have a seat and tell us what you think of the mayhem.”
Jules took a place at the table, greeting the others and accepting a glass of water that Matt passed to him. “It’s wonderful,” he said. “Mercy certainly does know how to throw a party.”
“If you think this is something, just wait until Christmas,” Matt said. “The town puts up a big tree, and there are candles in every window and bells on every horse.”
“Don’t worry, when they say ‘big tree,’ they do mean an actual tree, not the tallest tumbleweed they can find,” Gil said, slanting a teasing look at Matt. “It’s actually quite scenic.”
“Someone is gonna be awful lonely under the mistletoe,” Matt said, his tone pitched for Gil alone, but Jules was close enough to catch the words and see the accompanying heated glance that belied them. It seemed his speculation about their relationship was correct, but he didn’t want to let on that he knew, especially since it was none of his business.
“How are things going for you, Al?” he said, turning to his stepson. “You’ve been awfully busy the past few weeks.”
“I have been,” Al said, grinning from ear to ear. “Carlos has me running from sunup to sundown, and I love every minute of it.”
“That is because you belong with horses.”
Jules turned to see Carlos escorting Jeanie to the table. He appeared relaxed and happy to see everyone at the table, and his smile widened when his gaze fell on Jules. Once he helped Jeanie to her seat, he claimed the empty place beside Jules, making sure his warm, solid arm brushed against Jules’s as he settled in.
“Thanks
, Carlos,” Al said, beaming at his mentor. “I’m glad you think so.”
Jules kept his attention on his plate, not wanting Carlos to see the flush that had risen to his face. Then he felt a hand on his knee, and he drew in a sharp breath, a flare of desire sparking within him. There wasn’t much he could do that wouldn’t draw attention, so he settled for shifting his leg away, hoping Carlos would take the hint. He shot Carlos a quick look, not surprised to see Carlos looked as innocent as a choir boy as he fondled Jules’s knee.
“We will have another guest in a few minutes,” Jeanie said, taking a seat beside her husband. “But let’s all go ahead and get started.”
Everyone began to eat, praising the various dishes and sharing particularly tasty bits. Jules was relieved, because Carlos had to remove his hand, but Carlos made up for the lack by leaning very close to Jules as he spoke to Al, who was seated on Jules’s other side.
As Jeanie promised, Tabitha McManus joined them, dressed in a lovely deep blue dress that accentuated her eyes. Despite being flustered by the way Carlos was tormenting him, Jules had to hide a smile as Al nearly knocked over his chair in his rush to stand up. Jeanie was obviously a practiced hand in the art of subtle social manipulation, because she made certain Tabitha was seated directly across from Al.
Al could more than hold his own with Miss McManus intellectually, and Jules could tell she was a sweet girl who cared about the feelings of others. Which was fortunate, since with her looks, sophistication, and poise, she probably could have broken the heart of almost every man in town if she wanted to. He just hoped that her father, who was notoriously protective of his daughter, wouldn’t consider Al to be beneath her if the two young people ended up hitting it off.
Miss McManus seemed genuinely interested in Al’s experiences at Bent Oak, and the two of them chattered happily to each other for the remainder of the meal. Jules kept his attention on them, rather than on Carlos, though it didn’t keep Carlos from touching Jules under the table. The shameless behavior kept Jules in such a state that Gil even asked Jules if he was all right, and Jules had to come up with an excuse that he was a little nervous about the upcoming recitation.
Everyone helped to clear the table, and then it was time to head for the community hall for the rest of the evening. Jules was relieved to put some distance between himself and Carlos. He was going to have to make an opportunity to speak to Carlos alone and make it clear that Carlos was definitely going too far.
He felt a twinge of genuine nervousness about performing, but he pushed it aside as he followed Miss McManus up to the front of the hall. Carlos followed in their wake, having retrieved his guitar case from Jeanie’s house. Everyone else took seats in the rows of chairs that had been set up.
“Tonight we have something new and special for the harvest festival,” Miss McManus announced. “In honor of the season, our schoolmaster, Mr. Jules Wingate, will read a selection of seasonal poetry for us, accompanied by the beautiful music of one of Mercy’s favorite cowboys, Mr. Carlos Hernandez.”
Miss McManus stepped aside and the audience applauded politely. Jules removed several sheets of paper from his coat pocket; he’d copied all the poems down in case nerves got the better of him. He waited while Carlos readied his guitar. Carlos sat down in the chair that had been provided for him, tuned his guitar, and smiled warmly at Jules when he was ready.
Jules began with the Browning poem he’d chosen, modulating his voice to reach to the back of the room so everyone could hear him. Carlos’s music suited the poem perfectly, adding its own beauty to the measured lines of verse. When they finished, there was loud applause. So it went through the other seasonal poetry. Carlos found the perfect accompaniment to enhance the spoken words and make them seem richer and more vibrant. Each was given enthusiastic acknowledgment, and Jules was pleased the people of Mercy were so receptive.
After a brief pause to let the applause die away, Jules recited “Annabel Lee.” The poem had been one of his favorites since school, the pathos of the tale elevated to something transcendent by a poet without peer. It meant even more to him after losing Carlos, for the yearning, even in the face of incredible pain, was something he knew all too well. To have loved and lost made the poem resonate with him in ways that nothing else did. To know the love he had lost and missed so deeply sat only a few feet from him somehow made it all the more heart-wrenching, and he knew the depth of his own loss was reflected in his voice.
When he finished speaking and the last beautiful, melancholy chord of Carlos’s guitar died away, there was utter silence for several moments. Jules looked out on the people who had come to listen, seeing tears glistening in more than a few eyes. Then the applause began, and it shook the very timbers of the building with its power.
Stunned, Jules took a step back, drawing in a deep breath and glancing at Carlos.
“I think they liked it,” he said, pitching his voice to not be lost in the thunderous clapping.
“Of course they did,” Carlos replied with a little nod. “You are a captivating speaker. You always have been.”
Jules smiled, feeling his face grow hot at the compliment, which warmed him far more than it should. “Thank you. But I think your music gave it that extra something.”
“Thank you.” Carlos turned away briefly to pack up his guitar, and then he stood up and moved closer to Jules. “Our talents are well matched,” he said, and a heated gleam appeared in his dark eyes before he leaned over and murmured in Jules’s ear, “We were well-matched in several ways, as I recall.”
Memories of the two of them entwined in passion rose to torment Jules, no doubt as Carlos intended. Jules felt himself flushing again, and he shook his head, taking a step back to put some distance between them, glancing quickly at the audience to make certain no one was paying attention to them. “That was a long time ago.”
“Yet not so long ago that I have forgotten the pleasure of your touch or the sweetness of your kisses,” Carlos said. He winked at Jules before picking up his case and sauntering away, seeming to put a little extra swagger in his step for Jules’s benefit.
Jules wished he could smack Carlos. Carlos knew exactly what he was doing to Jules, and Jules was frustrated with himself that he wasn’t immune to Carlos’s tactics. He watched Carlos walk off, unable to keep from thinking about how different Carlos’s body would be now that he’d filled out, all broad shoulders and lean hips.
Jules bit off a growl. Rather than dwell on it, he joined Al to watch a skit put on by the older students from school, as well as the musical performances to follow. He tried to enjoy himself and put Carlos out of his mind, but he found his gaze straying throughout the evening, watching Carlos as he interacted with other people. He couldn’t seem to help himself, and every time Carlos noticed him looking, he gave Jules a heated smile.
A young cowboy, perhaps a few years older than Al, approached Carlos, and Jules was experienced enough to recognize the subtle flirtation in the way the handsome blond stood a bit too close to Carlos and leaned in whenever Carlos spoke. He wasn’t certain if Carlos was uninterested in the young man or if age had schooled him to more discretion, but Carlos didn’t appear to give the young man any encouragement. Still, the sight gave Jules a pang he had no right whatsoever to feel. It reminded him that Carlos probably hadn’t spent the past ten years alone the way Jules had, and that even if Carlos wanted him now, Jules wouldn’t be able to hold his interest for long.
The performances ended, and Jules rose, ignoring Carlos and the other young man. Feeling deflated, Jules made himself nod politely and accept the compliments of those around him for his own part in the evening, but he didn’t linger. Instead he decided to help the group of people who were cleaning up the tables outside, keeping busy instead of dwelling on what could never be.
At last it was time for the bonfire, and everyone gathered in the schoolyard, where the pyre had been assembled earlier. The mayor of Mercy gave a speech, then the fire was lit, and everyone cheered. Someon
e had brought a fiddle, and some impromptu dancing began, as well as the surreptitious passing of bottles of whiskey among some of the men.
Jules found himself being pulled into the square dancing, and he welcomed the distraction. He knew he was a good dancer, and with the ease of long practice, he made certain not to partner any woman more than another. Everyone seemed to be having a good time, and he noticed Carlos among the dancers, moving gracefully to the music, a wide smile on his handsome face.
As the fire burned itself out, the crowd began to disperse. Jules was wished good night by many people, as well as being congratulated for his recitation. He saw Carlos head off with the Carruthers party, and Al came up to bid him good night. At last he returned to his house, tired and feeling lonely and discontented despite the fun of the evening.
It wasn’t a feeling Jules was used to. Normally he was calm and collected even in the most trying circumstances, but now a restlessness settled upon him that he couldn’t seem to shake. He tried reading, but it didn’t soothe him as it usually did, and he gave up after only a few minutes. Briefly he considered working on his novel, but for once the siren song of his muse was silent and still. He felt overheated despite having shed his jacket and waistcoat, and he decided a walk in the cool, quiet evening would clear his head.
Outside, everything had fallen silent. It was after eleven, far later than most of the townspeople normally stayed up, and he was certain there would be many businesses that would open late the following day. A breeze had sprung up, hinting at the first chill of approaching winter, stirring the fallen leaves as he made his way around the remaining ashes of the bonfire. It felt good, and he sighed in relief.
The moon was high in the sky, casting everything with an eerie silver glow, but he found the sight beautiful rather than alarming. Jules didn’t believe in spirits; people could be haunted, but only by pain or guilt. His footsteps slowed as his thoughts returned to Carlos. He shouldn’t be dwelling on his former lover so often, but he couldn’t seem to help it, not when Carlos was obviously determined to make Jules want him.
